


It took us ten years

by LadyBlack3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Past Hermione Granger/Theodor Nott, birthday milestones, mention of cheating, mention of divorce, mention of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBlack3/pseuds/LadyBlack3
Summary: Harry Potter had many important milestones in his life, ones that he cherished and others he would rather forget. But no matter what life threw their way, there were two constants in his life: Hermione Granger, and this damn random ache in his chest.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Comments: 14
Kudos: 140
Collections: Happy Birthday Mister Potter





	It took us ten years

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the 'Happy Birthday Mister Potter' fest by the Facebook group Harmony & Co.

Birthdays.

They were such an emotive milestone for many people, while for others a painful reminder of the upbringing and household they were born into.

He could remember every single birthday, the advantage of having a bibliophilic wife who liked to journal and remember the good with the bad. She never once abandoned him, and it was more than he could say for any other person in his life. And though their circumstances were not exactly traditional, it suited them in ways that surpassed putting into words…

**1988**

Turning eight years old was supposed to be about cake, gifts, and maybe a trip to the fun park with your friends. At least that’s what Dudley’s birthday looked like, as Harry watched silently from the sidelines while his cousin's chubby cheek became covered in pink lipstick from Aunt Petunia’s excited praise of her Diddykins growing another year older. The floor of their suburban home was littered with wrapping paper hastily torn off a hoard of presents so heavy the dining table was nearly bending under it. 

He watched as the only family he knew loaded up into the car and drove off, leaving him to look after them through the thin lacy curtain of Mrs Figg’s window. He was torn between resentment and relief. He had never been shown the same care as his cousin, and never had his birthday been celebrated with cake and gifts. His gifts was Dudley’s worn oversized clothing and two extra spoonfuls of dinner scraps. And yet, as the car disappeared around the curb and his nose got used to the smell of cabbage and cats, he was glad to get a moment of peace. And perhaps if he was good enough and helped Mrs Figg, she would make cupcakes again and he could have one a week early, knowing there would be no treat for him come 31st July.

**1991**

As he lay in bed, his eyes wide open despite his tiredness, he couldn’t go to sleep.

He was a wizard. Taking in a shuddering breath and huddling under the thick blankets, he blinked and said the words out loud, as if that would make them more true. “I’m a wizard…” No, he still couldn’t quite believe it.

His parents didn’t die in a car crash, they were heroes who died to save him from an evil wizard. And for some reason he was famous and people wanted to shake his hand. He curled in on himself a bit tighter reflexively, unused to the fervent handshakes and kind pats on the shoulder. He must have had his hand shaken as many as thirty times today and yet he still expected for each touch to sting or smart into a bruise as it did with his aunt and uncle. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way… Either way, he finally got his wish this year. He wouldn’t tell anyone, just in case he woke up tomorrow and this had all been a dream, but as he blew out those candles on the dusty rock floor, he wished to get as far away from Dursleys as he could. If that meant a school in Scotland, he would leave gladly. Unable to resist the pull of sleep any longer, he closed his eyes tiredly, mumbling ‘Happy birthday to me…’ into his pillow.

**1996**

None. 

Not one letter.

For three weeks.

Ron used to write from time to time when they were younger but he has never been much for letters anyway. His complete silence stung a bit but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. When it came to Hermione though, the silence hurt. He’s been verging between despair and all-consuming rage for the past six weeks and still not a word. Was it that she didn’t know what to say? _‘Sorry you lost your godfather, I’m having a grand time in France with my parents’_ his cynical brain supplied readily, bile rising in his throat from the anger that coursed through his veins.

But when his eyes landed on the photo of the three of them from their first year, funnily enough framed as a gift from the very witch he was cursing a moment ago, his anger suddenly deflated. No, that wasn’t fair to her. Hermione would never not write, something must be wrong, right?

It was in the quiet hours of the night that he realised just how much he relied on her, how stupid he had been to rush into the Ministry. of course she has been right, it was just a clever trap, and because he rushed into it without listening to any of them, Sirius was dead. It was his fault, Sirius was gone, and maybe he shouldn’t be receiving any letter because who would want to write to him. He was a fucking mess….

Just as he resolved himself to trying to get some sleep, there was a soft peck on his window. He opened it hurriedly when he spotted the lovely brown owl, and gave her a few treats that were left over in his drawer. “Hello there, is that for me?” he asked when the owl stuck her leg out and offered him what looked like four envelopes.

He untied them carefully and asked if she was to stay for a response but the owl flew off once her treats were eaten. He looked at the envelopes curiously, wondering if this was about school but he instantly felt warmer when he spotted Hermione’s letters. They were all dated per each week of July and were forwarded from France as he had suspected. Receiving this meant more to him than he could explain, and while he was still angry and exhausted, he settled down to read all the letters in order, knowing he would remember the comfort they brought him for days to come.

**1998**

The fire was roaring in the fireplace as he stretched his legs out and sipped on the fire whiskey that was as old as he was turning today.Eighteen years old, and for some reason still alive. Unlike Fred….Collin….Remus…Tonks…the list just went on, so long they were making a plaque that would take up half the wall by the door of the freshly renovated Entrance Hall at Hogwarts. _A fucking plaque,_ he thought bitterly as he poured himself another glass. 

He knew Sirius was depressed while he was stuck in this dreadful house, but the stash he left behind was starting to go down a bit easier than it did a few weeks ago. Perhaps that was a sign he should stop drinking the bar dry, but Merlin he was tired. Of living, of being the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice or whatever other shite Skeeter was sprouting these days.

It was his eighteenth birthday and he wanted nothing to do with it. The Weasleys were still morning Fred, the funeral only having taken place last week, nearly at the end of the continous grieving procession of funerals, wakes, and much to his confusion numerous victory celebrations. Victory? The fucking nerve…

His musings were interrupted by quiet footsteps that paused in the door before resuming their journey towards him. “Leave,” he said coldly, not wanting to deal with anyone right now. 

Instead of obeying his command, he felt another body lower down to the old rug beside him and a small scoff directed at him. “As if I would start listening to you after seven years, Harry Potter,” the words were raspier than he expected them, the lack of her usual melodious voice confusing. He looked up and noticed her eyes were puffy from crying as she rubbed them with the edge of her sleeve before summoning a tumbler. “Pass the whiskey,” she motioned at the bottle with her petite hand. 

Despite his want to be alone, somehow he never minded her presence. Especially not after being forced into such close quarters in the tent. There were still days and nights as he wandered the dilapidated Black house that he wanted to ask her a question, or pulled out two mugs instead of one for tea, so used to her comforting presence. Not that he deserved any comfort… So he passed her the bottle and watched as she took a hearty swig, shuddering through the first burn before refilling her glass and setting the bottle between them. 

“Mind if I stay here for a while?” she asked after a moment of silence only interrupted by the crackling fire. 

He nodded without having to give it another thought. “Don’t want to stay at the Burrow anymore?” he asked.

Her bottom lip wobbled for a moment before she shook her head. “I’m not welcome, at the moment, or maybe for a while,” she said softly, her throat tight. 

“Ron?” he asked, unable to imagine Mrs Weasley asking her to leave. 

She nodded. “We broke up. He’s grieving, it’s not the time. He’s been helping George cope, and I seem to just make things worse when I’m around…but I don’t have anywhere to go,” she admitted, the last words spoken with a quiver of emotion. 

He knew what she had to do to save her parents, the guilt she carried for taking their memories away and moving them across the world, only to find out two weeks after the battle that they were taken from this world by a muggle drunk driver. She didn’t have any family, with her parents gone and her mother’s French-Caribbean aunt whom they used to visit in Marseilles passed away while they were hunting down the horcruxes. She was just as much an orphan and he was, and no matter what riches they inherited and whatever money they got for their Order of Merlin, they were still alone in the world. Well, not quite all alone. 

“Please stay,” he whispered into the quiet room. “I still make the pot of tea how you like it,” he offered, trying to lighten the mood as he looked at her and saw her lips stretching into a small smile, her features still pale from their time on the run and little sun.He missed the beautiful rich bronze tan she always returned with from the holidays, almost as if he could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin.

He was sick and tired of being cold but didn’t think he deserved the kindness he saw in her eyes and felt in her touch as she reached to squeeze his hand. “Thank you,” she said softly, the understanding between them only growing deeper over the past months.“And before I forget, it’s your birthday, this is for you,” she summoned the beaded bag she hadn’t been able to part with despite the fight being over, and pulled out an envelope.

He looked at her curiously but was glad there was no fanfare, singing, cake or anything of the sort this year. It didn’t feel like the time for it.So he opened it and just stared at the photo in his hand. 

“How did you…this is-“

“A memory,” Hermione explained. “I found a charm in one of my books to take a memory and create a photo out of it. It’s not much, but I thought it was the one good thing about being in that freezing tent…at least we had each other,” she said softly.

“It’s perfect,” he said simply and caressed the edge with his thumb before putting it back in the envelope and carefully setting it on the table.

Hermione refilled their glasses and lifted hers. “Not a toast but still, happy birthday. We survived a war, let’s hope it was worth it,” she shrugged and they clinked their glasses before downing the contents. 

It was oddly the most comforting thing she could have said, Harry found. She was looking into the fire forlornly so he nudged her shoulder with his. “What are you thinking?” he prodded gently. 

Hermione shrugged. “Just wondering if I’ll still be drinking by the fire in ten years, single and questioning whether it was worth it,” she admitted.

Harry looked at her for a moment before setting the bottle down. “How about a promise then? If we are still both single and questioning whether it was worth it in ten years, we meet wherever we are, on the floor, by a fire. You bring the fire whiskey next time though,” he offered with a smile, trying to lighten up the mood.

Hermione snorted. “There is no chance Ginny will let you off that easy. I’m afraid I’ll be drinking by myself, but sure. Deal,” she agreed and they shook hands before leaning back against the bottom frame of the sofa, shoulder to shoulder, just soaking up the comfort of each other’s company. 

**2004**

He tugged at the collar of his dress robes, wondering what in the world made him agree to wearing them in the July heat. He shuddered as a wave of cool washed over him and sighed in relief, recognising the feel of Hermione’s magic.“Thanks,” he looked up over his shoulder to the where she stood by the door, taking her in.

Ginny had lovely taste and the beautiful forest green satin chosen for her bridesmaids enhanced the warm bronze in Hermione’s skin. “You look lovely,” he managed after a moment, catching her amused expression.

“I would hope so, it took me three hours to straighten and wrestle my hair into this bloody chignon as per you fiancée’s wishes,” she snickered and stepped to him, gently shifting the fabric on his shoulders until it sat just right. “Now stop fidgeting. You are about to marry the woman you love before enjoying a birthday honeymoon for two weeks, that’s an order Deputy-Head Auror,” she said pointedly.

He knew she was right. They’ve been steady with Ginny, finding their way back to each other after the war. They both had busy lives but managed to find the time together to know they were ready to take the next step. They were, weren’t they? So why was his chest aching at the thought of marrying the redhead.

Reading him like one of the many books in her private library, she squeezed his shoulders gently. “You are happy, are you not?” she asked, trying to be a steadying presence through his last-minute nerves.

He nodded, their gaze meeting in the mirror for a silent moment. “Just feels…big somehow, you know. It felt like everything changes between the three of us when Ron married Lavender a couple of years ago and now I’m getting married as well, and we’re going to be parents and-“ he stopped, realising he let their secret spill.

Hermione was momentarily stunned, her grasp on his shoulders tightening before her gaze turned calculative. “That’s why Ginny has been messing with the bodice of her dress, she’s self-conscious…oh Harry, congratulations,” she stepped up before him and hugged him tightly. “Look at you, getting married, starting a family, it’s everything you wanted. I’m so proud of you,” she whispered into his shoulder. 

Harry only squeezed her tighter. “Thanks, we’re only 5 weeks along so we didn’t want to tell anyone just yet. You know, just in case…”

“Well, looks like I’ll be drinking by myself by that fire in a few years,” she chuckled, reminding him of the deal they made that night after the war.

She wasn’t unhappy, her work was great, she was making a real difference as an Unspeakable researching magical theory and policy. And she did date from time to time, she set her own rules and enjoyed life as she wanted. Seeing her best friend in his robes, about to get married and starting a family though made something in her chest tighten painfully. The last part of the so called Golden Trio unmarried. Rita Skeeter will have a field day, she could already see it happening. 

“Never alone,” he reminded her just as Ron came in and grinned at them both.

“Ready for us to escort you down the aisle?” he asked, hands in the pockets of suit.

Harry returned the smile nervously and looked at himself once again in the mirror. He was ready. Wasn’t he?

**2007**

Kingsley certainly had a flair for the dramatic, announcing his advance to the position of the Head Auror on his birthday. Before he was forced into making a speech or had to try and dodge the party Molly was sure to throw, he was called on a mission to Germany as part of the International Law Enforcement tactical exchange. He could see Ginny’s disappointment as he came home and packed a bag for at least a week, not sure how long he would be gone. It was a look he was becoming familiar with as it has crossed her features more often over the past year than he could count.

His thoughts turned bleak as he settled in his room at one of the local hotels, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. The truth was, this has been going on for longer than the past year. They had a lovely home, both worked hard but tried to find the time for each other as much as they could, and avoided the media when possible. But that wasn’t what she wanted. They were the Potters, he would always be followed by the media, so he should just ‘learn to deal with it’ and take her out more. They had a lovely home that stood empty of any children after their three miscarriages. He knew it was hard on her and tried to be as supportive as he could, but with the damage from the war to both of their bodies, their chances weren’t great. He tried to suggest adoption but Ginny didn’t want to hear of it. It was enough that he spent his time with his godson so much apparently. Lately he wondered whether anything he did was ever good enough, or just enough really for his wife. He loved her, dearly, but there was always that niggling feeling, a part of him wondering whether there was something fundamentally broken that they wouldn’t be able to repair…

He rubbed his chest tiredly, feeling that dull ache as he sometimes did. Some healers said it was stress, others that it was random pain shocks left over from the Avada in the forest. He couldn’t tell, but there was little he could do to soothe it most of the time.

His blackberry vibrated in his pocket, notifying him of a new message. And before he even looked at the screen, he knew. Whenever he was unsettled, he had his constant. 

_Heard about your promotion, congratulations! Kingsley always did love his fanfare… I wish it was less of a distant Happy Birthday though. Come home soon and safe x_

**Thanks, looks like it might be a few days yet. How’s the Burrow looking? x** he asked, wondering whether she even went. He knew why she pulled away a bit from the family, the tension between her and Lavender was never nice but that was because the blonde was barely tolerable on most days. She was a lovely person, but he couldn’t live with someone so talkative and he wasn’t sure how Ron managed it most days quite frankly.

_Skipped it, feeling shite so took a day at home. Reading in my window seat with a glass of wine. Hope it won’t be more than a week, I always feel safer when you’re nearby x_

He reread the message a few times, his gaze returning to the last sentence. _I always feel safer when you’re nearby._ Seven simple words and yet they meant to him more than he could explain. He knew how resourceful and independent she was, how she never needed anyone to take care of her if she could do it herself, but for some reason Hermione always felt safer when he was nearby. Maybe the war has left them more damaged than they usually allowed themselves to talk about.

 **I remember you saving my arse more than I ever saved yours x** he replied, knowing she was no damsel in distress and he should rather be feeling safe with her.

The reply this time took much longer to arrive but when it did, his eyes drank it in word by word. _You make me feel safe in ways no one else can x_

And in that moment he knew and understood that even though they were far from that cold tent and haven’t lived together in years, the comfort between them surpassed the distance.

Did Ginny ever feel that way about him? He wondered as he rubbed at the dull ache in his chest again…

**2008**

The fire was burning hot and high in the fireplace at Grimmauld place, as she took off her boots and socks, waggling her toes to warm them up. It was nearly October and Andromeda was once again in the hospital. A family blood malediction or something of the sort, last Hermione heard from Narcissa.

Many barriers came down after the war and yet many social hierarchies remained firmly in place for someone of her blood status.She never thought dating a pureblood would open up so many doors to her, and she certainly hadn't dated Theo for that purpose but over the years she found herself spending more time with the Malfoys and Zabinis than she could have ever thought in her wildest imagination. Andromeda was already fond of her, and so was Teddy whom she helped babysit with Harry many a time. To know that she was stricken by this malediction just as she was finding a semblance of happiness after loosing nearly every loved one in her life was devastating. At least she had her long estranged sister back by her side though this hardship.

Hermione didn’t hesitate and offered to stay at Grimmauld place to look after Teddy while Narcissa stayed with Andromeda. Thankfully he was soundly asleep after a story and she had a few hours to herself, that is if he didn’t wake up with a nightmare worrying about his nana again. Maybe it was time for a nightcap for herself.

She heard a soft pop of apparition and felt the wards on the house hum in recognition of the visitor as they only ever did for three people - Andromeda, Teddy, and Harry. 

His footsteps were near silent, many years of stealth training and war taught him to move quietly, but she didn’t jump when he appeared beside her, knowing there was no danger prickling her senses. 

“You didn’t have to come, I know it’s been a long day for you,” she said softly. 

Harry summoned two tumblers and popped the lid on the whiskey, pouring them each a finger. “Well, I seem to recall this deal we had,” he began, seeing her shoulders tense slightly. “If we were both single ten years later, we would meet again, wherever we are, on the floor, by a fire.As I was in America and couldn’t travel in July and August, I thought it only fitting that it would start with my birthday and we should meet again this year on yours,” he lifted his glass, his vibrant green gaze soft. “Happy birthday, I’m sure Dirty Thirty will suit you just as well as your twenties.”

She chuckled and clinked their glasses, drinking it down and enjoying the burn of the liquid this time as it travelled down her throat. “Thanks. I wish it was under better circumstance but I remember yours wasn’t a happy affair either,” she mused.

Harry shrugged. “Let’s hope the curse breakers figure something out. I don’t know how Teddy would handle it if she were to pass,” he sighed and ran a hand through his unruly locks.

“He has a strong support network, we’ll make sure he grows up well if worst comes to worst. The prognosis isn’t positive so far though,” she admitted softly. 

“I thought I would move in here for a while, if Andromeda would have me. We just sold the house and Gin is back at the Burrow because she travels so much with the team. And I miss spending more time with Teddy,” he admitted.

“I’m sure he would be over the moon, he does miss you but understands you have important work,” she promised.

Harry nodded, pouring them another glass each. “How have you been, honestly?” he asked softly.

Hermione shrugged, reaching up to scratch an itchy spot between her braids. “Fine, I guess. Theo sent flowers for my birthday. It was kind of him, but it’s just made it worse to be honest,” she admitted. “I know he means well, and we agreed to stay friends, but I think we broke up for a reason, something just wasn’t working and looking back over our relationship and the five months since the break up, I’m glad I made that choice. Other than that, I have an exciting project on at work related to our understanding of time, and that is all I can say because my tongue is growing heavy,” she chuckled, the ever-present gag-charm on their department starting to kick in. “What about you? How are you holding up with everything?” she asked gently. 

He sighed, trying to figure out a way to answer. “I don’t know,” he admitted, sipping the amber liquid as his gaze returned to the fire warming their bodies gently. “The divorce was hard, but necessary. And as acrimonious as it got at one point, I don’t think it could have gone better,” he admitted. “I just..the house being sold was the final piece, everything else was split neatly and this was the last thing that was ours, and now it’s gone. I don’t know whether I fee relieved or just…disappointed,” he said softly. 

“You have every right to be. No matter how unhappy you are in a marriage, cheating is not acceptable,” Hermione pointed out, her already fractured friendship with Ginny practically non-existent these days. How could it not be when she was the one putting her best friend back together after the revelation of the redhead's actions? Ginny Weasley was many things, an excellent quidditch player, a brave and headstrong young woman. She was also spoiled by her family and sometimes Hermione wondered whatever she had ever seen Harry really for himself, or whether part of her still clung to the image of the Chosen One she had been infatuated with for years in her youth, the reality of their married life proving too different from her wishes.

“No, it’s not,” Harry broke through her thoughts. “I know we had issues and the miscarriages took their toll on us both, but we could have been enough for each other, couldn’t we? Or at least I thought so…” he whispered, his eyes shuttering as he rubbed them tiredly, exhaustion deepening the fine worry lines starting to appear around his eyes. 

“Hey,” she reached over and squeezed his hand tightly. “You’re enough, you are wonderful. Don’t get me wrong, we all have our faults and only you and Ginny know what happened between you, but if something doesn’t work, it’s never the fault of just one person. I know you waited and married when you felt it was right, but sometimes things just don’t work out. Growing apart because you are growing older and changing just means you weren’t supposed to grow together,”she said gently but earnestly. 

Harry nodded. “Always the voice of reason. What would I ever do without you?” he asked, though when he turned to look at her, her breath caught in her throat.His gaze was so vivid, so intent on her, she wasn’t sure how to respond. He reached up to cup her cheek, his work-roughened thumb caressing her soft skin.

“Well, you won’t ever have to find out, now will you?” she said softly.

“Still wondering whether the war was worth it?" he asked as their faces came closer. 

She shook her head. "Not if I get the birthday gift I want most this year," she admitted before his lips pressed against hers.

**2010**

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hermione asked for the fifth time as they came up to the apparition point by Grimmauld place.

He took her hand and squeezed it in reassurance. “There will be no repeat of last September, Ron knows better now,” he reminded her, though it didn’t completely assuage her worries.

The past couple of years have been difficult for everyone involved, from Harry’s and Ginny’s divorce, Andromeda’s passing, to trying to bring up a grieving young metamorphmagus right before he was due to start at Hogwarts. But despite the things that separated them for many years, Grimmauld place became the home to their strange little family. Because that is what they have become, with Teddy only having his godfather now, and accepting Hermione as the main female influence in his life. It wasn’t easy to start with, as Andromeda’s place in his life couldn’t be replaced and Hermione didn’t want to overstep, always toeing the line of how much comfort would be welcome from her. They made it work eventually and hoped Hogwarts has been good for him.

“Do you think he liked it?” she asked, still clutching onto his hand as they disapparated to Kings Cross.

“You know he did. He wrote you every two weeks like you asked him to,” Harry rolled his eyes fondly. “Hey, it’ll be fine,” he promised once again, nonetheless breathing a sigh of relief at the absence of the trademark Weasley hair in the crowd of parents picking up their offspring for the summer holidays.

“He’s not here,” Hermione said softly to not be overheard and allowed herself to be drawn into his side with a steadying hold on her hip.

Harry understood why she was apprehensive but he was determined to keep his distance for the Weasleys this year, after the last time. With information and insinuations about their divorce mostly from the Prophet, Ron decided to confront Harry and begin a loud row in the middle platform 9 3/4 on the 1st of September when they were already emotion about seeing Teddy off to school. Someone of course caught the whole thing on camera and they were dragged through the rumour mills and the insidious Prophet campaigning for weeks. All because the truth was not as explosive as him finding comfort with the one woman who has never left his side and was his constant comfort. 

He never told her about the ache in his chest disappearing when they made love for the first time during Christmas almost two years ago. It was instead replaced by a feeling of rightness, as if he were settled on a path that he was meant to be on from the start. He couldn’t care less about gossip and hatred. They were happy together, and if he thought they were close in that blasted tent in the middle of a war, it didn’t compare to the intimacy of her comforting touch carding through his hair when he has a headache, or brining her a cup of tea to bed when she woke up with cramps. Silly and domestic as these things were, he cherished being able to see all sides of her life.

The train approached the platform and he registered the appearance of a group of redheads down the side but paid them no mind. Just before the train pulled up at the platform, they looked at each other and shared a small, nervous smile. 

“I can’t wait for him to come home. Can we have dinner in London? I want to hear everything about his first year over some pasta,” she admitted.

Harry chuckled. “Deal. And we can take dessert home,” he suggested but before she had a chance to respond, they were being tackle by an exuberant Teddy, his mop of vibrant turquoise hair shifting between a messy head of black hair and Hermione’s dark curls a few times in exuberance. 

Hermione didn’t know it yet, but he was very excited because his godfather had a special question to ask Hermione and Teddy was going to help him do so. Harry shrunk Teddy’s luggage as he watched Hermione wrap her arm around Teddy’s shoulders and chatted with him excitedly about the train ride and his classes. Yes, this felt right. Perhaps they would have better luck with a simple ceremony around his birthday in July, to keep up with his birthday tradition, he mused and followed them out of the train station with purpose. 

Fin.


End file.
